Dr Katie Moizer

Director & Chartered Clinical Psychologist

Professional Life

I have worked in Health & Social Care from the tender age of 17 (many moons ago).  I started out as a personal care assistant before working for the local authority with children and families.  I trained in applied behaviour analysis while completing my first degree in psychology. After this, I moved to Aberdeen to fulfil my first role as an assistant clinical psychologist working with adults with learning disabilities, and then to London to work in a unique CAMH (Child & Adolescent Mental Health) Day Service.  Three and half years (and a baby) later, I obtained my doctorate in clinical psychology from the University of Liverpool. 

Having a passion for working with neurodivergence I managed to obtain a specialist role associated with the same in CAMHS.  I also wrote for a publication called ‘Aukids.’  (One of the articles is still floating around on the internet as if was written only recently – in fact it was written in 2007!).

Whilst working within CAMHS I developed my existing skills and acquired many new ones.  Alongside my more specialist lead roles I worked extensively with children and young people with mental health struggles and their families.  I also returned to working with children looked after by the local authority.  And to expand my skill set further, I signed up as an associate for a well-established psychology service.  This is when my career really began to evolve. 

In this role I began working with adults, something which I hadn’t done since training.  And I loved it.  I was also introduced to clinical psychology work in the legal context.  Unbeknown to me at the time, these experiences would lead to a major shift in career.   

Eleven years post-qualification I made the incredibly difficult decision to leave the NHS and become a lead clinician within an independent provision.  For the past 6 years I have been working independently and continue to utilise my skills across many areas of clinical psychology, a more recent one being eating disorders.    

My most recent venture is setting up a wellbeing hub in the centre of Mirfield.  Over the years I have met many people who, like me, really should have accessed therapeutic services at a much younger age.  Or, if they have accessed support, the support provided has not quite ‘hit the spot,’ either because the client didn’t access the therapy meaningfully, the therapeutic relationship wasn’t right, or the therapeutic approach wasn’t the best fit.  But in most instances, I’ve found the limited access to appropriate local services and professionals to be a major issue, compounded by limited understanding of what a person would benefit from most at the point of referral. 

This, mixed with any anxiety associated with having therapy is an effective way of putting people off.  In the meantime, presenting issues can worsen and life becomes more and more difficult. 

It saddens me that mental health services, particularly therapy services are not adequately commissioned and difficult to access.  That said, there are some great resources out there, only sometimes it’s tricky to know where to begin, especially when you’re struggling to juggle life generally.  More and more people are looking toward private services, which can be very expensive – I know because I provide it and have funded it. 

So, this got me thinking – can I help to reduce stigma associated with needing support or therapy, while assisting people to explore and identify appropriate services, ideally without cost, or significantly reduced cost?  The conclusion was, I can try.  Hence, the idea of Onward & Upward Wellbeing Hub was borne. 

http://www.onwardandupward.pro

Personal life

By nature, therapy involves sharing the most personal and intimate of our experiences and life.  Many people who would benefit from therapy struggle with fear of judgement from others.  So understandably, placing all trust in a stranger with such information (albeit confidentially) can be an extremely daunting experience and can feel incredibly exposing.

It is unusual for clinical psychologists or therapists to share their own experiences or suffering.  But I assure you we are not immune.  How can we be?  We’re human.  So, I figured I would take a leap of faith - if I expect my clients to share their personal stories with me (confidentially of course), it’s only right I do the same. 

But how to do it?  It would be highly inappropriate to do this during a client’s own therapy session, so there’s only one thing for it …

Before I do share my story, please note there are many positives and good times in and among the following narrative which is a ‘whistlestop tour’ for demonstrative purposes. 

Here’s goes …  

I am formally called Catherine Moizer, more commonly known as Katie.  I’m female, a human being, partner, parent/stepparent, daughter, sister, friend, clinical psychologist … I think you get the picture. 

I grew up in a family of five.  Family roles were traditional – dad worked a lot and mum was the main carer for us kids.  I was ‘an accident’ (not planned) and arrived some years after my older siblings.  I am told I was not the easiest of babies.  This will have only added to my mum’s existing parenting stress.     

As a child I was anxious, lacking in confidence and passive.  I was different to my other fiery and vocal family members (still am).  I also had severe eczema (and later, acne), asthma and recurrent bouts of tonsilitis which resulted in time off school and frequent trips to the GP.  Having a skin disorder did make me different to my peers.  I felt it, and was sometimes reminded of it, but just got on with it.   

I experienced developmental trauma growing up, the main contributing factor being the loss of my dad at age 11.  Due to the circumstances surrounding his death for me personally, this resulted in what I now understand to be traumatic stress.  It went unrecognised, partly because of my personality and partly due to lack of knowledge and stoicism of the time.  I also went on to develop a strange anxiety associated with eating in front of people I didn’t know.

Then adolescence happened.  Having performed well in junior and middle school things turned a bit wild.  I gradually developed confidence and let’s just say I put my mum through her paces.  I left school with just enough GCSEs but a far cry from those expected of me and frankly, wasn’t that bothered.   

After several hedonistic years - mixed with intense and confusing relationships, heartbreak, loss and some harmful experiences - at the age of 21 I decided enough was enough.  I wanted to go to university.  This was definitively a positive turning point, but it was far from easy. 

The years that followed were strange to say the least.  After jumping through the necessary hoops to gain a place at uni and then completing my undergraduate degree, I moved away from home to pursue my chosen career.  I was doing well.  And for the most part enjoying myself.  But inside there was a dull yet distinct feeling of being lost, anxious and insecure.  Though I tried to hide it, it did show itself in many ways – not just in my vulnerable emotional wellbeing and how I perceived myself and the world, but relationships - how I interacted with people, how I was perceived by others and as a result, treated.  Despite great effort I really struggled to navigate and manage this.  Though did, for the most part. 

Within this period, I gave birth to my son.  I can honestly say being pregnant was the best time of my life.  I felt so happy, self-assured and comfortable in my own skin.  I was excited to become a mum (despite being in the throes of writing a doctorate thesis).  However, the euphoria began to wear off when I was induced to give birth.  My son’s birth was traumatic for both of us, and I often count my lucky stars that we both came through it relatively unscathed. 

Six months later depression really kicked in.  It was truly awful.  And to add insult to injury, it did affect my relationship with the only human being I wanted and needed to connect with, my son. Our attachment did suffer, and it took some time to re-build.   

A few years later I became a single parent.  Though I had undoubtedly experienced distress before this, I recall this period as the most unsettling of my life.  Not because of the impact on me, but because of the impact on our then three-year-old, who was totally incapable of understanding what was happening but nevertheless, undoubtedly felt it.  In view of his tricky beginnings associated with my mental health, and the knowledge that separating from his dad would reduce his time with both of us, the anxiety and guilt felt almost unbearable.  And then there was the legal stuff and co-parenting to sort out. 

Moving back home was the next challenge.  Despite a slow burning identity crisis since leaving, I discovered that I had changed, massively, in many ways.  Once again, I found myself confused.  Although I’d visited home whilst away, I still wondered – do I fit in anymore?  Can I fit in?  Returning to a small town, gossip, those people who pretend to know you and your business better than you do, was a consideration.  I’d been away for ten years.  Did I really want to come back?  It was a tricky time, and some major disappointments were to come, but all of them led me to where I am now.      

Fast forward ten years – believe it or not the five years spent as a single mum were just the tonic.  Though lonely at times, mixed with major bouts of work-related stress, I needed this period to reflect, re-evaluate and literally gather myself into a whole piece that I felt comfortable with.  I was able to work out what I wanted and what I didn’t, which relationships were good for me, which weren’t, and how to either nurture or manage them.  I learned to accept that people will gossip and it’s okay to be disliked and to dislike.  I learned to love my hometown again.   

Like most people, my life has brought with it hurdles to jump and falls to pick myself up from, along with a list of other struggles - the last entry being the dreaded menopause.  There have been times in my life when I’ve felt terrible, lost and hopeless.  And I know very well I am not unique or part of a minority for feeling this way.    

When I decided to pursue a career in clinical psychology, I truly believed it was because I wanted to work exclusively with those who have neurodivergence.  I now know it was more than that.  I was driven to understand and support people who are or have been in some way disadvantaged, treated as different, or distressed.  People like me. 

Without a doubt the support from others has helped pull me through the tough times.  I also had therapy, and this helped massively.  But my professional knowledge has been invaluable – I’ve learned so much about myself by making sense of my experiences, my strengths and my weaknesses.  As a result, I have grown into an independent, confident, albeit now middle aged, woman.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am far from perfect.  Nobody is.  And there are times I need to have a harsh word with myself to practice what I preach.  I still experience the lows as well as the highs.  But now, having majorly doubted it before, I know I’m resilient. And if I do have a wobble, I know what resources I can draw on to cope. 

I can now confidently make decisions in my own best interest without worry or anxiety about being judged, criticised or even rejected.  I can tolerate the mistakes I make without protracted and harsh criticism of myself by myself.  Even my skin has cleared up.  These are things I now take for granted and have done for some time.  But when I remind myself of them, it feels great!   

The effects of upsetting events or trauma can effectively hide. They can be actively suppressed, or displayed outright in our emotions, behaviour, interpersonal interactions and physical health.  Often, it’s a combination of all.  Whatever is going on within will present itself, somehow.  And depending on the level of impact it can grow or evolve sufficiently to cause problems along the way.   

Everyone has a history, a personal story.  Of course, these vary wildly.  What one person experiences as joyful may not be shared by another.  What one person experiences as traumatic, another person will not.  One person could be significantly impacted by a particular event whereas another, recovers quickly.  This does not mean the former person is weak or flawed in some way.  People are different.  We experience and process things differently and sometimes we need a little help along the way, sometimes a lot. 

It’s called, life.